Shield of Winter

Chapter 28

I’ve reviewed the scans we took yesterday. It’s imperative we speak at once.

Message from Dr. Edgard Bashir

VASIC TELEPORTED DIRECTLY inside Ivy’s cabin to discover it silent, but he could sense her behind the screen that concealed her bed. Unwilling to venture into the private area without an invitation, he reached out with his mind. Ivy?

No response, not even a sleepy one.

He strode past the screen to find her curled up unconscious under a heavy blanket. Refusing to acknowledge the ice creeping into the edges of his mind, an ice that didn’t numb but burned, he checked her vital signs.

Her skin was clammy, her pulse sluggish but present. His hand clenched convulsively on her wrist at the confirmation that she lived; he had to force himself to release her slender bones before he caused bruises.

“Oh.”

Turning at the startled sound, he saw Jaya. “What happened?”

“She helped Eben,” the other woman answered, her eyes shadowed with concern. “I called Sascha Duncan after Isaiah and I found her collapsed in the kitchen. She drove over immediately and said Ivy should come out of it on her own, that she simply overloaded her empathic senses, but that we should watch over her.”

“Thank you.”

“Isaiah’s keeping Eben occupied. I’ve been sitting with her, just stepped out for a minute to return a call from my father. Shall I—”

“No,” Vasic interrupted. “I’ll take care of her now.”

Jaya leaned down to brush her lips over Ivy’s forehead, her fingers trembling as she stroked back the silky black curls that always made Vasic want to touch. “You’ll tell me when she wakes?”

Nodding, Vasic said, “Stay a few more seconds.” He thought of Aden and was beside his partner a split-second later, the other man in the midst of talking to the pathologists who’d already begun to conduct autopsies on the infected.

I need you to check Ivy. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Sascha Duncan’s assessment; he simply trusted his partner more.

Aden nodded and asked the medical staff to excuse him. Go.

Hand clasped around Ivy’s, Jaya remained while Aden scanned Ivy using a small medical device, then a light telepathic touch. “She has the same signs as a classic flameout, should recover with rest,” was his diagnosis. “I haven’t had any experience with empathic minds, but Sascha’s recommendation to keep an eye on her and allow her to recover naturally would be mine as well.”

Teleporting Aden back to the morgue, Vasic returned to Ivy. Jaya left a few moments later, after once more making him promise to keep her updated. “Rabbit will probably run in soon,” she told him as she slid her arms into her jacket. “He’s been doing that the entire time—but he goes back to Eben before the boy can miss him and start to follow. It’s almost as if he understands Eben can’t see Ivy in this condition.”

Eben, however, had clearly guessed more than anyone realized. The boy entered the cabin twenty minutes after Jaya’s departure, his shoulders tense. “Did I hurt Ivy?” he asked in a ragged voice. “Please tell me the truth.”

“No. She’s simply resting after the power outlay.”

Open relief. “Oh, I’ve done that before, when I stretched my telepathy too hard.” He petted Rabbit when the dog came out from behind the screen after checking on Ivy. “We’ll go hang with Isaiah and Penn so we don’t disturb her. Come on, Rabbit.”

It was sixty-seven minutes after that conversation, the world graying into evening outside, that Vasic finally heard a rustle.

Checking Ivy’s pulse—strong and steady—he touched her mind again, and this time sensed the normal patterns of sleep. What he didn’t expect was the sleepy, Vasic? that was Ivy’s telepathic voice in his own mind.

I’m here. Rest.

Stretching out, then curling up again, blanket pulled to her neck, she smiled. He should’ve left now that she was stable, but he hesitated. And then he went down on his haunches by the bed and dared touch his hand to her hair, the silky strands snagging on the calluses that marked his palm.

TWO hours later, Vasic was in the trees at the inner perimeter, speaking with Judd, when he sensed Ivy’s presence. Turning around, he found her walking toward him, her hands in the pockets of the jacket he’d given her and her unbound hair dusted with snow that must’ve fallen from a tree branch.

“There you are,” she said with a deep smile before she noticed Judd. “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I interrupting?”

“No. I was giving Judd some details about Anchorage.” The other man had asked in his position as a SnowDancer lieutenant, the pack wanting to ensure it was prepared in case there was a similar incident in any part of their sprawling territory. “You should still be resting.”

Ivy’s smile morphed into a scowl. “Says the man who sleeps less than anyone else in this compound.”

I wouldn’t. Judd’s mental voice touched Vasic’s mind when he would’ve pointed out that she’d experienced a major psychic strain today. She’s ready to be annoyed with you.

Vasic met Judd’s eyes. How do you know?

A faint amusement in the other man’s expression. I have a mate and two nieces. I also live in a wolf pack. Trust me when I say I know annoyed women.

As the only women Vasic really knew aside from Ivy were the other Es and his fellow Arrows, he decided to take Judd’s word for it. “Did you need something?” he asked Ivy.

Scowl fading, she said, “I wanted to ask about Anchorage, actually.” Her tone was bleak. “I’m following several PsyNet news feeds, but all they’re saying is that there was a mass psychotic outbreak, no other facts.”

Vasic’s instincts rebelled against dousing her in the ugliness of the death and madness he’d witnessed today.

Tell her. Judd’s telepathic touch again.

She’s had a traumatic day.

You’ll be the one having a traumatic day soon. Strong women don’t like being wrapped in cotton wool.

Vasic held his ground. Were this your mate, would you tell her?

Of course, was the immediate answer. Mating is a partnership. It’s not about keeping secrets or about one half of the pair bearing all the weight.

“Do you two geniuses think I can’t tell you’re talking about me?” Eyes narrowed, Ivy folded her arms.

“Sorry.” Judd coughed into his hand. “I’d better be heading off anyway.” A glance at Vasic. “Think about what I said.”

Ivy waited until the other man was gone before raising an eyebrow. “Well?”

He realized she was tapping her foot. For some reason, that tiny action fascinated him. “You suffered a major psychic burnout earlier,” he said, disregarding Judd’s advice in his need to protect Ivy.

“Empaths are built to handle turbulent emotion.” She rubbed the heel of her hand over her breastbone as she stated that fact in an exasperated tone.

Zeroing in on the unconscious act, he said, “You’re feeling the aftereffects of working with Eben.”

“Yes, like a bruise,” she admitted. “And like any bruise, it’ll fade.” A piercing look. “Now talk to me—we can’t work blind, Vasic.”

She was right. Such blindness could be fatal. “It appears the infection is more stealthy than originally believed,” he said, and gave her everything he had to this point. “I’ll make sure to brief the rest of the Es, too.”

“Thank you.” She swallowed. “Were there any other Psy survivors?”

He knew she was talking about people anchored in the region, not visitors. “A mother and child. I’m certain they’re empaths.”

Ivy said nothing for a long time, and Vasic simply watched her. The top of her head just reached his breastbone and he could see the snow on her hair had melted to leave jeweled droplets of water on her curls. As he watched, a single droplet rolled stealthily down past her ear to disappear into the raised collar of his jacket.

He imagined it laying a wet path across her collarbone and over the creamy mound of her breast until it caught on the peak of a dusky pink nipple. The urge to tug down the zip on the jacket, push aside her other clothing, and undo the cruelty of the day with the soft, generous warmth of her was a violent storm surge in his blood. Holding it back with a bloodless grip, he told himself fantasies didn’t count.

So long as he didn’t put his hands on her flesh, he wouldn’t taint her.

Another part of his mind grabbed on to that thought with hungry teeth. Looking wasn’t touching, it whispered.

“That answers one question.” Ivy’s breath fogged the air as her voice merged with the voracious one in his head. “Empaths are immune to the infection.”

Subtly altering the air molecules around her face so the air she inhaled was no longer so cold, he muted the sly voice that had found a loophole in his resolve. “Yes.” Even if it could be argued that Eben and the baby’s mother had somehow protected themselves, the same couldn’t be said of the infant. “There may also be another empath among the wounded survivors.”

“Three confirmed empaths in such a small area, possibly four.” Ivy stepped close enough that the sleeve of her jacket brushed his arm. “It hints at exactly how many there must be in the Net.”

“And the fact of their necessity.” The PsyNet was alive in a way no one understood. It wouldn’t have produced so many empaths in this generation unless they served a vital function.

Nodding, Ivy bit down on her lower lip as she had a habit of doing, her eyes focused on the ground and a vertical line between her eyebrows.

What are you thinking? he asked, though he had no right to know.

Give me a minute.

So close to him that he could reach out and embrace her, she—

He paused, worked through all the tiny details he knew about her. Would you like me to hold you? he asked, unsure he was correctly reading the subtle cues.

She turned into his body in answer. Wrapping his arms around her, he took care to make certain the gauntlet didn’t dig into her, and cradled her head as he’d done when he’d held her after the nightmare. She seemed not to mind the hold, and he liked the feel of her hair, silky and warm against his skin.

This touch didn’t count, either, that starving part of him whispered. Ivy needed this; to deny her the contact would be to hurt her. Cheek pressed to his chest and arms around him, she was a small weight he could feel through her jacket and his combat uniform. He preferred her dressed as she’d been the other time, her clothing thinner, less of a barrier. It made him consider how much more of her he’d feel if he, too, was dressed in light civilian clothing.

His mind jabbed a warning down his spinal cord, telling him sensation equaled pain. Fighting the psychological brainwashing, because there was nothing painful about holding Ivy, he lowered his head to speak to her, the words quiet in the intimate space between them. “Should I have been there when you woke?”

Ivy stroked his back, and he wanted the armor off, wanted to know what it felt like to be touched by someone who did it for no reason but that she liked him. “It’s all right. I know you have a lot of duties.” Continuing to pet him in the way he’d so often seen humans and changelings do with one another, she said, “Was it bad?”

Vasic knew he should break contact, not for his sake but for hers. But if he didn’t hold her, protect her, who would? Yet the brutal fact was he had no right to even ask that question, have that thought.

“Not as bad as many other operations,” he said, putting aside the cold truth for this stolen instant. “I found survivors this time.” It hadn’t only been blood and desolation.

“I’m glad you weren’t hurt.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he just held her tighter.

“Thank you for holding me.”

“It’s what you need.”

“What about you?” she asked, leaning back in his arms so she could look up into his face. “What do you need?”

“This.” Having her so close, so trusting, was far more than he deserved.

Ivy shook her head a fraction. “I can sense you now. Just a hint every so often.” The clear, penetrating copper of her eyes seemed to see right through him. “I felt your hunger before.” A whisper that touched him in places she shouldn’t have been able to reach. “You want something.” Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she rose on tiptoe. “Tell me.”

He could feel his pulse rate accelerating, her words threatening to unleash the selfish, hungry thing that lived in him. “Holding you,” he said, because it was vital she understand, “it doesn’t come with any strings attached.”

Ivy’s lips curved. “I know.” Breath brushing his jaw as he leaned down a little to hear her quiet voice, she said, “You did it because you like taking care of me.”

He couldn’t dispute her conclusion.

“Well”—another whisper of air against his skin—“I like taking care of you, too. Let me give you what you want.”

Vasic knew he shouldn’t . . . but the news he’d received over the comm an hour ago appeared to have obliterated his defenses against his empath. “Send me another image,” he said before he was aware of forming the words.

Ivy’s eyes widened, her throat moved, and he knew he’d crossed a line, might just have lost the tiny part of her he’d permitted himself to have. A stabbing sensation in his gut, he went to withdraw his request when she said, “D-do you want to see me, rather than an image?”